<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Christmas visit by TheLSpacer</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373355">A Christmas visit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLSpacer/pseuds/TheLSpacer'>TheLSpacer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Paul shapera - Fandom, Shaperaverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet Ending, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, NADS Secret Santa, Past Character Death, Postie characters are metnioned, also. forehead boops… mmmm, alsoalso I've never experienced snow and u. can tell, and make a cameo… of sorts, sorry in advance, yes I indeed angsted Christmas shopping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:53:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLSpacer/pseuds/TheLSpacer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Honouring a yearly tradition, Lloyd and Raven make a long overdue visit, stopping by a Christmas market along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lloyd Allen/Raven | David Adams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Christmas visit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for Daisu for the NADS Secret Santa, and got the okay to post it since she hasn't yet (as of now)! It's the longest one chapter fic I've written for this fandom yet and I'm p happy with how it turned out :DD Hope you enjoy reading, and merry Christmas + happy holidays!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lloyd and Raven had started the tradition the year after.. well, <em>after</em>, followed it for a time, but involuntarily put it on hold as a result of their separation. </p><p>Well, no excuses to put it off any longer, now that they’re back together. </p><p>And so, the two go narrative hopping. </p><p>They step between strands, weaving around the stories that involve violence or tragedy of any sort, passing through grand, sweeping tales of the rise and fall of empires without a backward glance.</p><p>After all, once one lived through enough narratives of <em>that</em> nature, they tended to lose their charm. </p><p>Thus, they continue on their travels, Lloyd a tad unsteady on his feet. It had been a year since he had gotten his new body, and there remain facets of movement that continue to elude him, not for a lack of trying. Never ones to be deterred, they make do, leaning on each other, taking things easy and slow. </p><p>They happen upon the Christmas market entirely by chance. </p><p>When they step out from the arid desert of the narrative prior, and into cold, evening breeze, it is the first sight that greets them. Set up in the bustling square of a quaint, rustic town (cobblestones, horses and all), the market thrums with warm activity. Families wrapped under layers of coats and scarves drift from stall to stall, picking out knick knacks, the scene lit by strings of light hung all around the square. Some carry bags of roasted chestnuts, steam drifting into the air, and others stop to listen to the small bands of musicians scattered throughout, festive strains of music mingling together in a sweet cacophony. In the middle of it all towers a magnificent tree, lit with garish lights bouncing off innumerable glittering ornaments, permeating the air with the faint scent of pine.</p><p>“How trite.”</p><p>Raven glances over at Lloyd, whose face, now pinched from the cold, is twisted further in an annoyed grimace.</p><p>He smiles. “Kind of ridiculous, huh? They take this whole thing so <em>seriously</em>.”</p><p>Before Lloyd can open his mouth to respond, a gust of wind sweeps through the square, making the both of them shiver. He leans ever so slightly against Raven who, without a word, wraps an arm around him.</p><p>“Still. It seems peaceful enough, just the thing we’re looking for. And I could use one of those wooly sweaters I see them selling. Don’t know about you, but I’m <em>freezing</em>.”</p><p>Lloyd pretends to consider it, before simply nodding into Raven’s shoulder, teeth chattering so hard he doesn’t trust himself to say anything halfway coherent.</p><p>“Christmas market it is.”</p>
<hr/><p>The sweaters they end up buying — read: Raven alternating between haggling and flirting until a bewildered vendor agreed to part with two woollen jumpers in exchange for a handful of loose feathers that had fallen off of his top hat ages ago, subsequently shoved into the back pocket of his pants— are tacky at best, hideous at worst. Raven’s is a purple-striped (in his eyes, its only redeeming quality) monstrosity, with a lumpy reindeer head sewn onto its front, while Lloyd had chosen what he deemed the least embarrassing option: a red and green, snowflake-patterned mass of yarn, adorned with cotton balls meant to simulate snow, the same snow just beginning to fall as the sun fully sets over the square.</p><p>As the white, icy flakes drift downward, the two can’t help but feel grateful for their warm sweaters, huddling close together in an attempt to shield against the sudden drop in temperature.</p><p>“I…I can’t say I miss this terribly,” Lloyd says through chattering teeth. “The cold, I mean.”</p><p>“You didn’t need to specify, dear.” Even though he’s shivering too, and attempting to shake the snow out of his hair, Raven has a glimmer in his eyes. “I’m sure my company is always missed, cold or no.”</p><p>Lloyd scoffs, his breath steaming visibly in the air. “Not when you get all self-congratulatory about it.”</p><p>Raven grins, sharp and wide, taps Lloyd on the nose with a mitten-clad hand. “Mmhmm, sure. I know you love me.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Lloyd breaks away from his smirking companion in favour of taking a closer look at the wares hawked by the vendors around the square. Most are kitschy trinkets — snow globes and carved figurines of angels and the like — meant to be unwrapped, cooed over, and then forgotten. </p><p>Despite this, he’s certain that amidst the dreck are treasures to be found. So he continues searching, idly picking at the sleeves of his jumper and wondering what mischief his boyfriend is causing in his absence.</p>
<hr/><p>Raven has his eyes set on that giant stuffed toy pig, currently in the possession of a young woman who had won it from one of the game booths, now closed, and is utterly determined to obtain it using <em>whatever means necessary</em> (without causing too much of a ruckus, of course). </p><p>After some thought, he settles on the — frankly, ingenious — solution of running his own booth, and enticing the woman into giving up that pig in exchange for… for…</p><p>In this case, for a tarot reading, and (unbeknownst to her), a bit of narrative intervention on her behalf.</p><p>“I don’t know… I’m not really into this whole tarot thing. I decide my own fate, and all that.” This said by the young woman in question, grinning nervously and clutching the stuffed pig to her chest.</p><p>“Ah ah ah!” Raven waggles a finger. He had set up shop in the vacated game booth, and is leaning across the table where his tarot deck lays fanned out, at the ready. “But this isn’t any ordinary tarot reading. Save that for the amateurs. What if I told you that this deck of cards can make whatever you want to happen, happen? That all you have to do is make a payment, speak your wish, and draw a card, for your wish to come true?”</p><p>“Uhhhh…” Her grip on the pig loosens almost imperceptibly, but Raven picks up on it, and allows himself a small fist pump under the table.</p>
<hr/><p>After some wandering, Lloyd had managed to procure two rather satisfactory items; namely a handsome eagle-feather quill, and a shining Swiss pocketknife made of brass, both safely tucked away in an inner pocket of his clothing. </p><p>Now to find Raven…</p><p>As he walks, his legs begin to slow and tire. Cursing silently, he scans the sea of people, looking for the familiar face of his boyfriend. </p><p>No luck.</p><p>His breath shortens, quickens, his heart pounds, but before the panic can truly set in, his ears pick up on a familiar sound. Not the familiar sound he was looking for, perhaps, but it’s enough for his shoulders to relax, just slightly. </p><p>Almost unconsciously, his legs carry him closer and closer to its source, until he’s right in front of it. At the entrance of (what he presumes is) the town hall, safe from the falling snow, is a string quartet, sat on stools, playing to a gaggle of children seated on the steps below, their parents preoccupied with their holiday shopping.</p><p>The music is foreign to him, but the sound of the strings, of four instruments coming together in perfect harmony, draws him ever closer. He finds a spot against a pillar, far enough from the children but close enough that he can hear the quartet, sits, and listens to the music. </p><p>He <em>still</em> doesn’t miss the cold, he decides firmly. He hates his silly jumper, he hates how his body refuses to cooperate with him, and above all, he hates this particular night, this tradition being more than enough to put him in a dark mood, reminding him of one of the worst days of his life. </p><p>But... being here at the Christmas market, listening to the music, gooseflesh rising up and down his arms, feeling his acquired treasures safe against his chest, and feeling <em>safe</em>, knowing his Ravey is here, somewhere, ready and waiting to help him up when he needs him the most… it almost makes the night worth it. </p><p>His eyes drift closed, and he lets the quartet play him to sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>“Lloyd, darling? It’s time to wake up.”</p><p>Lloyd stirs, and opens an eye. </p><p>Sure enough, it’s Raven, still in that ridiculous reindeer sweater, carrying a huge pig plush in one arm, his other hand resting on his shoulder. </p><p>“Ravey… didn’t know I was asleep so long..”</p><p>“Yeah, sleeping tends to be that way.” Raven is crouched on the steps next to him. The string quartet had packed up and left some time ago, and the market square is significantly less crowded than before. The wind, colder now, bites at his exposed face and ears. He shivers.</p><p>“You ready to go? You found what you were looking for?”</p><p>“I did, in fact.” He pulls out the quill and the pocketknife. Raven regards them, and nods. </p><p>“They would like that, I think. And look, I managed to win this beast!” He holds up the toy pig triumphantly. Lloyd gives its chubby face an experimental squish.</p><p>“Perfect. I suppose we should get going, then.”</p><p>“Eeyup,” Raven agrees, popping the ‘p’. Holding onto Lloyd’s forearms, they rise together. </p><p>“Wanna lean on me?” He asks. </p><p>Lloyd walks a couple steps, and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Ravey.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it, my dear.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>Raven snorts. “Love you too. Hey! Fancy a chestnut?” With his free hand, Raven fishes out a small, still-warm paper bag, shaking it in Lloyd’s direction.</p><p>“Eh, maybe later.”</p><p>“Your loss.” Raven pops a few into his mouth, pockets the bag, and slings an arm around Lloyd’s shoulders. “You ready?”</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>Lloyd takes a look around the dim, silent Christmas market, every surface coated in a fine layer of snow, then turns his head upward, at the faint dusting of stars across the dark sky. </p><p>
  <em>It’s a nice night, considering everything.</em>
</p><p>And considering how dour he had been the entire time, he’s surprised that Raven hasn’t snapped, that he remains smiling, upbeat at his side, even though this night holds as many bad memories for him as it does for Lloyd, perhaps even more so. </p><p>
  <em>He’s doing it for me. </em>
</p><p>Leaning over, he kisses Raven on the corner of his mouth. </p><p>
  “I love you. I love you. Since I didn’t say it the two times before.”
</p><p>Raven just hums and holds Lloyd closer, the snow falling in drifts all around them.</p>
<hr/><p>Their final stop for the night (and the purpose for their narrative jaunt) is the hollowed-out remains of the First Playhouse.</p><p>Raven latches on tight to Lloyd’s hand, as they walk around the crumbling facade of the place that was once their home. It had been years since either of them returned, one trapped in New Albion, the other in the Collective Unconscious.</p><p>In spite of this, muscle memory guides them through just fine, past dark windows and overgrown flower beds, and finally, to the small clearing in the forest behind the abandoned building. </p><p>There, just as they had left it, are three gravestones, planted into soft grass, lit by the moonlight.</p><p>Jill, Asha, and Isabel.</p><p>Raven sets to work, clearing the moss and leaves that had littered the stones in their absence. Meanwhile, Lloyd holds the stuffed pig, the quill, and the pocketknife close.</p><p>Once the debris is removed, it becomes apparent that Asha’s stone is weathered, more so than the others. It had sat in that clearing some years prior to being joined by the other two, though Raven and Lloyd commemorate their passings on the same night. <em>This night</em>. </p><p>The anniversary of the Posthuman War.</p><p>Raven begins their little ritual first, propping the toy pig against Jill’s grave. Him and Lloyd know the ground beneath it is empty, but for a coffin containing the few scraps of her clothing that had survived the vorish-demiplane’s consuming fire. Nevertheless, their friend is gone, and they mourn. </p><p>Raven gives the stone a small pat. “Thought you’d appreciate this. Kinda reminded me of that weird general you liked so much. <em>And</em> I got it by doing a phony tarot reading for some chick who just wanted to get some action with her boyfriend for the holidays, so. Know that I made that happen in your honour.”</p><p>Lloyd adds, “We miss you, by the way. If we ever manage to get you back, you’d probably find this whole thing ridiculous. In the meantime, though, we hope you let us have this little bit of closure.”</p><p>Raven steps back, and gestures at the remaining two gravestones.</p><p>Lloyd does Isabel’s first, resting the pocketknife on the ground before her headstone. </p><p>“You were always resourceful, always the sharpest in the room. Ergo, pocketknife. Hope you… hope you like it.” Ordinarily, he would have had something more verbose prepared, but seeing her grave, <em>their<em> graves for the first time in so long leaves the words stuck in his throat.</em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
Raven helps him to stand, and addresses the stone. “I found your great-granddaughter, by the way. You can’t keep secrets from me forever. Her name’s Han Mi, and she’s one of the best people I know. I frankly can’t believe we share genetic material.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
He smiles weakly, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Lloyd smiles back, reassuringly, and finds his voice. “Han’s amazing. Neither of us would be here without her. She reminds me so much of you, and I know you’d be proud of how she’s grown.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>They retreat, Raven sniffing and scrubbing at his eyes. Lloyd feels the tears too, just under the surface, but knows it would do neither of them any good if they both broke down.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>No. One of them has to be strong for the other, and this time, it’s his turn.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He rubs soothing circles into Raven’s back, letting him cry against his shoulder. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Eventually, Raven lifts his head, and gives Lloyd’s hand a squeeze. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Just one grave left; Asha’s.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Raven preoccupies himself with counting the cards in his tarot deck, leaving Lloyd a moment alone.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>With leaden steps, he approaches. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>It had been years since Asha was claimed by the first war, and yet, seeing her grave once again sends an icy knife through his chest. His legs give way, and he clumsily places the quill at her gravestone, trying to speak through the tears that, unbidden, rise to the surface. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“A quill made from… from an eagle feather,” he stumbles, “because you always liked to write and I.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>His mind blanks, whatever speech he had prepared in the moments prior falling to pieces, until all he can do is apologize. “I’m. I’m so, so s-sorry. That I don’t have anything nicer for you. That- that I haven’t been back to visit. Please forgive me. I. I miss you so much.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He’s crying, now, and sweat runs down his back despite the chill still present in the air, numbing his face and fingers and toes.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He rests his head against the cool stone, willing himself to imagine that she’s still there, resting own forehead against his, as she had done so frequently back then. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I l-love you,” he chokes out. “Asha, I love you.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He feels Raven’s warm presence behind him, senses the hand presenting him with one handkerchief, then another.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Raven stays this way, sat behind him, until Lloyd has cried himself dry, body still numb and tingly. He wipes the last of the tears from his face.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I’m so sorry, Lloyd,” Raven says. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Lloyd sighs. “She’s been gone for years now, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“I know, but you’re still hurting, and I <em>hate</em> seeing you hurt.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>Lloyd turns to face his boyfriend. “Help me up?”</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>Wordlessly, Raven complies.</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>Standing over the graves of their friends, he’s all too aware of the aching emptiness in his chest. But he’s just as aware of Raven’s arms around his own, anchoring him. “It hurts, yes, but less so because you’re here.”</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>The moon wanes, casting the graves in shadow.</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>Lloyd clears his throat. “I think that’s our cue.”</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>“Touché.”</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>They say their final farewells, promise to visit again soon, and make their way back to the Playhouse.</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
As they walk, following the path of trodden leaves, Lloyd turns to Raven. “I… I could use one of those chestnuts now.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“Of course, dear,” Raven says, offering the bag to him.
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
He takes one, and makes a face. “These taste awful.
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“Your fault for waiting too long. You’re supposed to eat them right away.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“Mmm. Thanks for getting them, regardless. And… Thank you, for bearing with me. I know this isn’t easy for you, either."
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“It- it isn’t.” Raven shakes his head, voice pained. “I guess it’s been too long since I last let myself remember them. In the Collective Unconscious everything seemed… easier, if I thought that I was alone, that I never had anyone to begin with, aside from the Floozy."
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
 Lloyd links an arm through Raven’s, turns his head away so he doesn’t have to meet the other’s gaze. “I… I know what you mean. Before I found the Room, I was alone in New Albion, too. Simpler to pretend that that’s how things always were, rather than having to deal with this. Missing everyone. Grieving.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
They come to a stop at the dilapidated entrance. With one hand, Raven turns Lloyd’s face back towards him, meeting his eyes. “I still miss them, and I probably will for a long time. But like you said, it’s easier to miss them <em>with</em> you. Don’t think I could’ve gotten through tonight otherwise.” 
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
 Before they can make the final journey home, Lloyd cups Raven’s hand with his own, leaning into his touch. “Neither could I.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
A pause, then, “ Happy anniversary, Ravey."
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
“Ha,” Raven intones, raspy voice tinged with sad bitterness. “Happy anniversary, I suppose, and—“
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  He stops, tilting his head. “— What was it those people in that narrative said… Merry Christmas?” 
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  Lloyd feels a slight smile break through. He closes his eyes, and presses his forehead to Raven’s. “Merry Christmas.”
        
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just know that I wanted to include the postie wings au in this but decided not to bc it would've probs been too bewildering for someone not active in the server, but a tiny reference snuck in (the eagle feather quill, bc Asha has eagle wings in my hc).</p><p>Anyways… Thank u for reading!! Lmk what you think hehe ily</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>